


The End of the World [Leads to Kissing and Other Things]

by OpalizedBone



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Sweet, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wings, the plot being they love each other, well a little bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedBone/pseuds/OpalizedBone
Summary: The night started like many of their nights; dinner at the Ritz, a bottle of wine, good conversation.Before long, it turned into something deliciously new...~excerpt:[“Before you say anything,” Crowley managed to get out, his own hands looping around Aziraphale’s middle, “I just...I don’t want to move too fast for you, Angel.”“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed. “You’re perfect, my dear, divine. You’ve been so patient for me, haven’t you?”Crowley opened his eyes, breath hitching. He nodded slowly.“How long?” Aziraphale was so close, his pale eyelashes casting shadows over his eyes.]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 221
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	The End of the World [Leads to Kissing and Other Things]

Their dinner at the Ritz was lovely, of course. It always was. 

“I like to think,” Aziraphale began, raising his glass, “That none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit of a good person.”

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”

Aziraphale struggled and failed to hide his self-satisfied grin at that comment, glancing down then up as if he were a shy schoolgirl with a crush.

“Cheers,” Crowley toasted, and then charged ahead without thinking. “To the world.”

Instantly, his ears burned, realizing his voice had come out not, as he had intended, as a cocky, triumphant toast, but something soft, hopeful.

To Crowley’s surprise, Aziraphale smiled at him as if he were just then realizing something and returned his toast.

“To the  _ world.”  _

Azirapahle said it like he was saying “ _ you’re _ my world.”

Crowley clinked his glass to Aziraphale’s, a strange lump forming in his throat, clogging his voice. He swallowed, sitting back in his chair as Aziraphale babbled away happily. Crowley couldn’t help but notice the way Aziraphale leaned towards him, more animated than usual, breaking his six-thousand-year-old habit of impeccable posture to reach for him, gesturing excitedly as he spoke. 

Anyone watching the two of them could have noticed the way Aziraphale’s hand laid on the table for much too long to be casual, as if he were begging Crowley to take his hand, and Crowley was no exception. He barely heard what Aziraphale was saying, his entire being focused on the large, sturdy hand between them. Aziraphale’s hands were lovely, broad and impeccably manicured, and had been the source of much of Crowley’s inner fantasies over the years. He tried to ignore it.

“My dear, are you listening to me?” Aziraphale asked, startling Crowley out of his reverie.

“I--sorry, drifted there. What’s that, Angel?” Crowley sniffed, sitting up straight.

“I said, I have a bottle of Feuerheerd 1969 Port back at mine, if you’d like?” Aziraphale repeated, raising his eyebrows in a way that  _ surely  _ wasn’t meant to be so suggestive.

Crowley’s heart seemed to skip a beat, despite the fact that he technically didn’t need to have one. He nodded quickly, and snapped his fingers to pay the bill as he stood up, extending a hand to Aziraphale.

“Sounds great, Angel.” Crowley was proud when his voice was only a tiny bit breathless. Aziraphale smiled knowingly and took his hand to stand.

Aziraphale kept their hands linked as they walked out to the Bentley, only letting go to slide into the passenger seat. Crowley was rather forcibly reminded of the bus ride to his flat after the Apoca-nope, when he had offered Aziraphale his hand to steady him, only for Aziraphale to lace their fingers together for the remainder of the bus ride. His cheeks tingled as he settled into the driver’s seat and peeled out into traffic, following the familiar route to the bookshop.

Crowley was out of the car nearly before the engine was off, waiting for Aziraphale with something close to impatience.

“Go on, dear boy,” Aziraphale smiled as he got out of the car to join him. “The door is always open for you.”

Crowley made a noise that might have been ‘ngk’ in response and locked the Bentley, turning to the bookshop. Just as Aziraphale promised, the door unlocked at the first touch of his fingers, and he held it open for Aziraphale.

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale grinned, walking past him to hang up his coat on the stand. As he passed, Crowley caught a whiff of his familiar scent, something heady, warm; honey and tea, sage and cinnamon. He swallowed as he followed him inside.

“I believe you mentioned booze,” Crowley drawled as he sauntered into the back room, Aziraphale hot on his heels.

“Quite,” Aziraphale smiled, his cheeks tinged pink, and headed off towards the kitchenette. “I’ll just fetch that and you, you just--make yourself comfortable.”

Crowley made a non-commital noise as the angel left, collapsing onto the couch, all straight lines and sharp angles sinking into the soft cushions. He heard faint bustling from the general area of the kitchen, and then Aziraphale was back, holding two glasses and a just-opened bottle.

“Here we are,” Aziraphale said, setting the glasses on the coffee table and pouring them each a measure. The wine was a beautiful light oak color, shot through with dusky gold, and smelled faintly of orange peels, a hint of walnuts and figs slipping through when Crowley swirled the glass under his nose. He thought he could detect a touch of honey, but perhaps that was simply Aziraphale, who had settled in his armchair across from him with his own glass.

Crowley glanced at the bottle sitting on the table. It was simple, made of dark glass and printed with bold, white letters, each word on its own line: **Porto Feuerheerd Colheita 1969** , with the proclamation  **Aged in Wood** underneath. He tried to ignore the year, knowing that Aziraphale couldn’t possibly know the connotation behind the phrase ‘69.’

The pair of them sipped their wine, and Aziraphale hummed approvingly. It was light and sweet, balanced by a splash of acidity that kept it from being too cloying. Paired with the beautifully long finish the tawny port gave, it was outstanding. Crowley swished it gently through his fangs before swallowing.

“Pretty good,” he commented casually, taking another swig. Aziraphale beamed.

“Oh, yes, it’s delightful,” he replied, his smile radiant. “I’ve been saving it, you know, for a special occasion. I’ve heard such good things about ‘69, you see, and I thought it best to share with you, dear.”

Crowley nearly choked on his wine, just barely managing not to spill it on himself as he bolted half-upright. Aziraphale did this every so often, blurting out a sentence that he obviously had no clue was an innuendo, and every time Crowley’s heart would do a funny lurch inside his ribs.

“I--yeah,” Crowley managed. He wasn’t  _ nearly  _ drunk enough for this, and he chugged the rest of his wine, pouring himself another generous glass. Aziraphale was soon on his second glass as well.

“Do you really think they’ll leave us alone now?” Aziraphale asked, staring down into his glass. Crowley looked up at him.

“For now,” he said, unwilling to allow himself to hope for more. “After what you told me happened in Hell, I don’t think they’ll want to mess with me for a while. And Gabriel was frankly a little horrified, to tell you the truth.”

“What did you do?” Aziraphale asked, scandalized.

“Nothing major,” Crowley shrugged. “I breathed some hellfire at the bastard. Uriel and Sandalphon, too.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, one manicured hand pressing to his chest. “That was extraordinarily reckless!”

“They deserved it!” Crowley snapped, sitting up straight. Their glasses were empty again, so he poured them a third. “Gabriel, he--he’s awful, Angel, a right fucking bastard.”

“Well, I won’t argue that point,” Aziraphale sighed, “But in any case, ending your trial like that was dangerous, my dear.”

Crowley froze, his glasses halfway down his nose, staring at Aziraphale. The angel could see his wide golden gaze from over his lenses.

“Angel, you...you didn’t  _ have _ a trial,” Crowley told him, and his voice was the same as it was when he told him his bookshop burned down; gentle, soft, as if afraid of hurting him.

“I--that’s preposterous, you had a trial in Hell!” Aziraphale spluttered. “Granted, it wasn’t the most... _ just  _ proceeding, but there  _ was  _ a trial. Beelzebub was the judge, and-and Hastur was the prosecutor and…”

Aziraphale trailed off. Crowley watched him closely, taking his glasses off.

“Aziraphale?”

“I didn’t have a trial?” Aziraphale asked, looking up at him. “If I didn’t have a trial, then...then what happened?”

“Well…” Crowley grimaced. “They tied you to a chair, and one of the lesser demons brought up the hellfire, and then Uriel untied you. And Gabriel told you to step into the fire.”

“That’s...that’s all?” Aziraphale looked shocked. “There was no debating? No hesitation?”

“I tried to reason with them, Angel,” Crowley told him. “Gabriel’s a prick, though. He just said “shut your stupid mouth, and die already.” Bloody Hell, I wanted to end him right then and there.”

“He didn’t say that,” Aziraphale protested, but he sounded unsure of himself, his face crestfallen. “...Did he really?”

Crowley frowned. He hadn’t told Aziraphale about Heaven yet because he knew it would hurt him, and he hated seeing his angel hurt. He took a swig of wine, passing Aziraphale his own glass, who downed half of it.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” he said, leaning forward to touch his hand gently. Aziraphale grasped at his fingers like a drowning man catching a life buoy. “You’re better than all of heaven put together, anyhow.”

“I...thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, his eyes wet. “You’re so kind to me.”

“Kind is another four-letter word,” Crowley half-scowled, “It’s almost worse than nice.”

“You’re both those things,” Aziraphale insisted, a small smile creeping over his face. “No matter what you say.”

“I am not,” Crowley argued.

“My dear, you’ve proven yourself a thousand times over,” Aziraphale nearly laughed, getting up and shifting to the couch so they were sitting side-by-side.

“I’m a demon, Aziraphale,” he pointed out. “Being nice isn’t in the job description.”

“You aren’t a very good demon, though, my dear.” Aziraphale was still holding his hand as they sat next to each other, and Crowley could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Shut up, Angel,” Crowley growled, but he was still halfway smiling, his hand encompassed in Aziraphale’s. He drank more wine.

“Make me.” Aziraphale’s voice was slightly breathless, but firm. Commanding. Crowley’s breath stopped, and he froze with his glass halfway back down to the table.

“...What?”

“You heard me,” Aziraphale said. He tilted his chin up, challenging. Crowley clunked his glass down and pulled away, standing up and pacing the back room restlessly. Aziraphale had no idea what he was doing to him, did he?

“You can’t just--just  _ say  _ things like that—” Crowley muttered, running his hands through his hair.

There was a rustle, then footsteps behind him. He turned around, and Aziraphale was right there, warm and solid.

“Crowley,” he murmured. Crowley backed up, inhaling when his back hit the door. He swallowed.

“You know, that port really was delicious,” Crowley babbled, his instincts to deflect and escape kicking in. “Had a hint of orange, you pick up on that? Tangy.”

“Crowley—”

“Could go well as a dessert wine, really, fairly sweet—” Aziraphale was getting closer, trapping him against the door.

_ “Crowley, _ my dear—”

“Prefer the bitter reds myself, you know, lots of tannins, not too cloying. Anything too sweet and it sticks to m—”

Aziraphale’s hands found his hips, thumbs soothing over the sharp points of his hip bones, and Crowley suddenly shut his mouth. He swallowed tightly.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated for the fourth time. “It’s okay, my dear.”  
  
“Angel…” Crowley breathed, his voice raspy. “Please.” He didn’t know what he was asking for.  _ Please don’t pull away, please kiss me, please don’t break my heart, please tell me you think of me the way I think of you, please, please, please. _

__ “I…” Aziraphale paused, reaching up to cup his cheek. Crowley leaned into it, completely helpless to the pull the angel exerted over him so effortlessly. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Before you say anything,” Crowley managed to get out, his own hands looping around Aziraphale’s middle, “I just...I don’t want to move too fast for you, Angel.”

“Oh,  _ Crowley,”  _ Aziraphale breathed. “You’re perfect, my dear, divine. You’ve been so patient for me, haven’t you?”

Crowley opened his eyes, breath hitching. He nodded slowly.

“How long?” Aziraphale was so close, his pale eyelashes casting shadows over his eyes. He leaned in even closer. “How long have you loved me?”

“I...years, Angel,” Crowley croaked, arms tightening. A barrier inside him broke, allowing him to pour out his heart now that he’d been given permission. “Decades. Centuries. I’ve loved you for millenia, Aziraphale, and I’ll love you for as long as I have consciousness. I’ve written ballads for you, songs and poems and plays, I’d do anything to see your smile, to keep you safe.”

Aziraphale was crying, but he was smiling, too, his lips curling up, and he looked positively radiant.

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up, my dear, and even longer to act on it, I was--afraid.”

“Don’t apologize,” Crowley assured, his own cheeks distinctly wet. “We’re here now. Couldn’t give a crap about the past. I love you, I love you,  _ I love you _ , Angel, my angel.”

“I want to kiss you,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, and Crowley nodded immediately.

“Please.”

Aziraphale leaned up as he leaned down, pressing their lips together. His mouth was warm and soft, molding to his own with near-perfection. Crowley gathered him closer, tugging him in by the small of his back, and Aziraphale made a small, appreciative noise. He smelled familiar, like home in a way that Crowley’s flat had never quite managed; old parchment and cinnamon and that slight musky cologne his barber had suggested.

When Crowley felt Aziraphale open his mouth, trying to deepen the kiss, he reciprocated immediately, sliding his forked tongue along Aziraphale’s bottom lip. The sound he made at that imprinted itself upon Crowley’s brain forever, and he moaned slightly in return.

Crowley had dreamt about this moment for centuries, but his fantasies fell far flat to reality. Fantasies couldn’t capture the warmth of Aziraphale, his softness, the way his hands slid up Crowley’s spine to find the scales there like they were made for it. Crowley arched his back with a small moan as Aziraphale’s fingers found the sensitive scales on his shoulder blades, where they began transitioning to dark feathers over his wings, even though they were currently hidden in the Other. Aziraphale, the right bastard, picked up on this reaction and lingered, tracing nonsensical patterns over invisible wing joints.

Breaking away from the kiss with a strangled moan, Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his face buried in his neck.

“Angel,” he breathed, shivering as Aziraphale massaged a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh, my dear, you are  _ lovely _ ,” Aziraphale replied, voice honey-warm and soft. Crowley shuddered as it washed over him, setting him aflame. Warmth pooled in his abdomen, slipping down to settle low between his legs, and Crowley wanted so badly to make an Effort then. “I love you so much, Crowley dear.”

“ _ Angel _ ,” he tried again, voice cracking with want. He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s throat, kissing and licking there, and oh, that was nice, wasn’t it? He could taste Aziraphale there, not the bitter note of cologne he expected, but something sweet and cinnamon and distinctly  _ him.  _ Aziraphale tipped his head back to give him more room, sighing lightly, and Crowley sucked tenderly where his neck met his shoulder. This made Aziraphale  _ groan _ , clutching him tighter, and Crowley  _ needed _ to hear that sound again.

“Oh, Crowley, that’s lovely, my dear boy,” Aziraphale sighed, holding him close. Their hips rocked together without much say-so on either of their parts, and Crowley shuddered.

“Aziraphale,” he said— _ said _ , certainly did not  _ whine _ —overwhelmed and wanting and unsure. He lifted his head, kissing his angel again, and Aziraphale licked his lower lip, sucking lightly.

“Bedroom?” Aziraphale suggested between increasingly-heated kisses, his hands sliding back down Crowley’s spine to grip his hips. Crowley made a noise of assent against his lips, unwilling to give him up for even a moment, and Aziraphale began backing up. 

Crowley chased him, shucking out of his coat and dropping his glasses on the coffee table, and the two of them slowly made their way upstairs. The going was hindered by more kisses, clothes coming off, and by the time they were upstairs in Aziraphale’s flat, they were down to socks, trousers, and shirts. Aziraphale still had his stuffy little bow tie in the collar of his, and Crowley set about untying it as he kissed him again, sliding the fabric from around his neck and unfastening the top few buttons.

Suddenly Aziraphale was taking charge again, crowding Crowley up along the hallway wall and kissing along his bared throat. His hands wandered, up and down Crowley’s sides, his back, his hips, and fire spread through his veins.

“May I, my dear?” Aziraphale pulled back to ask, his hand hovering in front of Crowley’s trousers. He swallowed; this was the part he was afraid of, where he bared himself and the angel found him lacking. But he saw nothing but love in those clear eyes. Taking a deep breath, Crowley made an Effort, and nodded.

All the blood in his body rushed south at once, and Crowley gasped, his head hitting the wall. He’d never made an Effort and gotten hard in the same moment before, but then again, he’d never done this with Aziraphale before. His hands flailed uselessly before settling on Aziraphale’s shoulders, grasping helplessly.

“Angel!” he gasped, eyes shut, as Aziraphale palmed his hard length through his ridiculously tight pants. Crowley had half a mind to set them on fire just to get out of them quicker, but then Aziraphale was unzipping them. He tugged them down just enough to free him, giving him a sense of relief for a short moment before his large, warm hand wrapped around him once more.

“Oh, look at you,” Aziraphale breathed, positively beaming. He leaned in to press a kiss to Crowley’s sweaty temple. “Glorious.”

Crowley whined, his hips bucking into Aziraphale’s touch without his say-so. Precum beaded at the tip of his long cock, and Aziraphale swiped a thumb over his head to spread it. An answering pulse made Crowley’s stomach shiver.

“B-bed?” Crowley asked shakily, because every pass of Aziraphale’s soft fingers made his knees shake and he half-expected to collapse at any moment. Aziraphale took pity on him, sweeping him up into his arms and carrying him the last few feet.

Setting him down on the comforter as gently as he would a first-edition manuscript, Aziraphale simply stood and looked at Crowley for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers, and both of them were as naked as the day they were created, their clothes all collected from various places in the bookshop and folded into two neat piles on his dresser. Crowley only spared a moment to think ‘that’s my angel’ before his attention was focused elsewhere.

Aziraphale was already making an Effort, and he was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen. Soft and supple, he had light patches of curly, white-golden hair over his chest and at the base of his thick, pink cock. More beautiful than the stars he had made, more beautiful than Eden, more beautiful than Heaven itself. He might have said so out loud, for Aziraphale was blushing, standing there at the side of the bed. Crowley was suddenly, achingly cold.

“‘Zira, love, c’mere,” Crowley managed, opening his arms, and Aziraphale crawled up along his body to kiss him. Crowley’s legs spread of their own accord, welcoming Aziraphale between them, and both of them moaned into the kiss as their cocks pressed warm and hard into the other’s groin. Crowley couldn’t help the way his hips twitched upwards, the way he rocked instinctively, trying to find a rhythm. 

“O- _ oh,  _ Crowley!” Aziraphale rocked his hips between Crowley’s thighs, rutting against him as he mouthed at his neck. Crowley gasped, spine arching, as Aziraphale’s warm, hard length rubbed along the crease of his thigh. Instinctively, Crowley wrapped his arms and legs around his angel, hooking his fingers over his shoulder blades. Aziraphale moaned, rutting harder, and Crowley realized he was holding just over the other’s wing joints.

Crowley concentrated, closing his eyes, and rubbed Aziraphale’s back slowly. He could feel downy feathers and radiant warmth hidden just out of reach, barely restrained in the Other.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned as he massaged his feathers. “Darling, oh…”

“Let me see?” Crowley breathed, opening his eyes to look up as Aziraphale pulled away from his neck. His angel was gorgeous, face quirked in bliss. “Please, Angel. Let me see your wings.”

Crowley was answered by a flash of white light and warm, soft feathers against his palms. Golden-white wings spread from Aziraphale’s back, arching over the two of them like a feathery roof. Crowley carded his fingertips along the top edge, and Aziraphale’s hips gave an unsteady jerk against his own. Raising his eyebrow, Crowley palmed Aziraphale’s wings purposefully, squeezing the flight muscles along the top near his shoulders.

“Cr-Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, and Crowley actually  _ felt  _ the angel’s cock twitch against his own, a spurt of warm precum smearing along his length.

“Is that okay?” Crowley checked, and Aziraphale nodded so fast Crowley smirked, stroking his wings again.They were so  _ warm,  _ soft and full, shining pure golden light down over the two of them. “That’s it, love. Do you mind if I join you?”

At Aziraphale’s nod, Crowley sat up a little, and Aziraphale pulled back to give him room, sitting on his heels as Crowley balanced his weight on his elbows. With a concentrated thought, Crowley pulled his own wings into this plane.

Aziraphale gasped, watching him with wide blue eyes. He reached forward, pausing until Crowley nodded his assent, and gently ran his fingers over Crowley’s wings.

Warmth spread from his wings to his groin wherever Aziraphale’s fingers touched his feathers. Crowley hadn’t realized just how  _ sensitive _ they were; each touch sent his arousal skyrocketing, until he was squirming and panting. Aziraphale combed through his dark feathers like he would his hair, leaning over him to get a better angle, and Crowley keened, anchoring himself with his hands clutching his angel’s biceps.

“Angel, please,” Crowley found himself saying after only a few moments. He was achingly hard, his cock standing proud and untouched between his thighs, and Aziraphale smiled softly.

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale soothed, shifting to kneel between his legs. His hands slid down Crowley’s flat stomach to grip his hips instead, and Crowley lifted his pelvis with a soft hiss, watching him with eyes turned entirely golden. Rubbing warm palms down, Aziraphale swiped soothing thumbs over his thighs, and then Crowley sighed, leaning back more.

“I’m going to touch you now, love,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley nodded quickly.

“Please,” he said. He cock was hard to the point of pain, precum pearling at the tip, and it jerked when Aziraphale wrapped a warm, miraculously slick hand around him. Crowley gasped tightly, forked tongue wetting his lips, as Aziraphale pumped slowly.

“Delightful,” Aziraphale breathed, watching his face closely as he twisted his fingers under the sensitive head. Crowley couldn’t help the broken moan that slipped out at that maneuver. 

“Angel…” Crowley groaned, his hands fluttering everywhere as he tried to decide where to grab. Every slick slide of Aziraphale’s hand made warmth travel up his spine, and colors he couldn’t name sparked across the backs of his eyelids whenever his angel circled over his head. It felt like Aziraphale was doing his best to drag his soul out through pleasure alone.

“Oh, darling, you look so beautiful,” Aziraphale said, sounding awestruck. “I want to taste you, my love. May I?”

“Oh, fffuck, Angel, yesssss,” Crowley gasped, his old hiss coming through. “Pleassse.”

Aziraphale ducked down, laying on his stomach, and pressed his face to Crowley’s inner thigh, breathing him in with a smile. Crowley couldn’t help the way his back arched, and it was starting to become quite uncomfortable on his wings, so he banished them with a quick, irritated snap. He didn’t have the necessary focus to spare for them at the moment. 

Aziraphale looked up at the sound, smiling when their eyes caught. He followed Crowley’s lead and put away his wings, letting them dissolve in a small sparkle. Crowley almost felt disappointed--Aziraphale’s wings were lovely--but then Aziraphale turned his attention back to Crowley’s cock and twisted his hand, pressing his lips to his thigh in a wet kiss, and Crowley forgot all about wings or lack thereof. Crowley let his eyes shut with a moan, feeling Aziraphale kiss his way down his sinewy thigh. He tangled his long fingers into Aziraphale’s curls, finding the same downy softness and heavenly warmth there that he had in his wings.

The kisses turned wetter as Aziraphale worked closer to his cock, slow, reverent slides of his tongue making goosebumps rise along his flesh. Then that same hot, wet tongue laved between his cheeks, over his perineum, and Crowley bucked with a strangled curse.

“Fuck, Angel!” the words sounded punched out of him, and one hand rose to cover his face as a blush spread over his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. The other hand tightened in Aziraphale’s hair, trying to pull him closer, but Aziraphale resisted, leaning up to drag his hand away from his eyes.

“Crowley, my dear, are you alright?” he asked, looking at him with such tender fondness that Crowley couldn’t help but blush more. He nodded, biting his lower lip-- _ ow _ , yeah, he definitely had fangs at the moment, oops--and took a breath to respond.

“Yeah, sssorry,” he said, loosening the hand still tangled in Aziraphale’s white-blonde hair, petting the soft curls. “Jusst sssurprissed me. Felt good.”

“Then, are you alright if I continue?” Aziraphale said, settling back down on his stomach. He gave an impish little smirk. “You taste absolutely _ divine _ , darling, and you know how much I love my little treats.”

“I--uh...yeah, go for it, Angel,” Crowley stammered, mind blanking out at the statement.

Aziraphale’s smile grew wider, and he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to the head of his dick. Then he ducked down, pressing Crowley’s legs wider by the backs of his thighs, and kissed his taint with the same warm longing. Crowley whimpered.

Aziraphale dragged his tongue in a long, cursory swipe, ending at his balls, sucking one into his mouth with a soft moan of his own. Crowley hissed, grasping at Aziraphale’s hair, and mentally braced himself. Aziraphale already had the beginnings of Crowley’s favorite expression on his face: the indulgent satisfaction of enjoying fine cuisine. And if he was going to get the treatment he suspected Aziraphale had planned for him, then he was going to need any help he could get.

The angel began slowly, with broad, flat swipes of his wet tongue from between his cheeks up to his taint. Before long, though, these turned into focused, direct laps, flickering against his rim. Aziraphale moaned against him, pressing deeper, sucking and licking like he’d never had anything so delicious. Crowley cried out as Aziraphale’s hot tongue dipped inside, the coil in his gut tightening further. It was just so deliciously  _ dirty,  _ to have an angel eating his ass, that Crowley couldn’t help the way he fell apart beneath him. 

Aziraphale gave his prick a long, slow pump with his miraculously slick hand as he shifted closer, sucking his rim, and Crowley nearly shouted, bucking his hips up. Aziraphale began a smooth rhythm with his hand as he licked in and out of his sensitive, wet hole, and Crowley matched it, rocking his hips to the other’s rhythm.

“Sshit, Aziraphale!” Crowley gasped, voice weak and desperate, as the angel buried himself deeper. It was wet and messy and so, so  _ good _ . “I’m getting closssse…”

At this, Aziraphale licked up to his shaft, pressing his warm lips there instead. Crowley whined at the loss of his tongue in his hole, and he shifted, circling a slick finger to his rim.

“I want to open you up the old-fashioned way,” Aziraphale pulled back enough to say, his lips brushing Crowley’s cock with every word. “I want to use my fingers, love, make you feel so  _ good.  _ May I, please?”

“Ah, fuck, Angel,” Crowley hissed, both his hands sliding into Aziraphale’s hair. He could feel just a bit of sweat beading at his hairline, and his blue eyes were nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils. “Ssshit. Yeah, pleasse--can’t sssay I’ll last, though.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Aziraphale smiled. “I want to taste you.”

With that, Aziraphale sucked the head of his cock into his mouth, circling the weeping tip with his thumb, and gently rocked his finger against his hole. Crowley cursed at the double attack, white-hot pleasure burning in the pit of his stomach, and rolled his hips up.

Aziraphale’s first finger slid in easily, Crowley’s body greedily sucking him in, and Crowley could do little more than gasp and moan as his angel curled and pressed, searching for that spot. Aziraphale hummed when he found it, sinking deeper onto his cock, and made a beckoning motion inside him.

Crowley’s hips jerked off the bed, his fingers tightening in Aziraphale’s hair as pleasure rocked through him like blue waves of static. It coiled in his stomach, sinking lower, and Crowley felt like his limbs were made of lead. 

Kaleidoscope shapes exploded behind Crowley’s eyelids--he’d shut them, when had that happened?--when Aziraphale let a second finger breach him a few minutes later. The stretch was perfect, like he was made for it, and Aziraphale’s lips were sealed around his cock closer to the base than he’d noticed his angel take him. He barely heard the noises he was making; he suspected that if he had the brain power he might be embarrassed by them, but as it was his entire world had narrowed to Aziraphale and the splinters of bliss pushed into him with every motion.

Crowley tried to hold off as long as he could, tried to focus on anything other than Aziraphale’s thick, warm fingers pressed so heavy against his prostate; his hot, wet mouth now sealed around the base of his cock, he really did. But Aziraphale’s touch was everything he’d hoped it would be and more, ratcheting his pleasure higher and higher until Crowley knew he could no longer resist.

“‘Zira, love,” he gasped, losing his rhythm. “I’m gonna--gonna cum.”

Aziraphale moaned around him, bobbing his head faster, sucking eagerly. His fingers curled and pressed, driving into his prostate again and again and  _ again _ , and Crowley could feel his orgasm creeping up as inevitable as the tide.

Crowley came with a shout as his pleasure fractured, spilling thick and hot into his angel’s mouth. Aziraphale whimpered, gulping him down greedily, massaging his prostate to get every single drop. Crowley moaned, bucking into Aziraphale’s mouth a few more jerky, unsteady times, and then melted into the mattress, golden satisfaction suffusing his entire being.

Aziraphale pulled back to suck the last of his release from the tip of his cock, pumping his fingers a few times--careful to avoid overstimulating him. He released him with a soft pop, raising up and licking his lips with a satisfied smile.

“Kiss me,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale smiled indulgently, leaning up to kiss him long and slow. Crowley could taste himself on Aziraphale’s lips, and it sent a little thrill through him. He wiggled his hips a little, feeling Aziraphale’s fingers shift, and hummed into the kiss.

“I love you,” Aziraphale said as they parted. He started to remove his fingers, only to stop as Crowley wrapped his fingers around his wrist. “Dear?”

“Love you too,” Crowley replied, only a little breathless as he shifted until he was comfortable. “Now please, Angel.  _ Fuck me.” _

Aziraphale’s eyes darkened, and he nodded, leaning over Crowley until he could kiss his neck while he fingered him. 

“Oh, my dear, you are exquisite,” Aziraphale murmured into his ear. “Simply marvelous. You just came, and yet you want more? My lovely, greedy little demon. I love you so much.”

Crowley whimpered, his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, rolling his hips to help his angel, and gasped as he felt a third finger resting against him, requesting entry. More lube was miracled up at his rim, and then Aziraphale pressed in, curling up. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and Crowley felt his half-hard cock give a heavy twitch, beginning to fill back up. Demonic refractory periods, he mused.

“So good, darling,” Aziraphale breathed, slowly opening him up. He kept whispering little sweet nothings against Crowley’s neck, and before long, Crowley was a gasping mess.

“Aziraphale,” he whined, “Angel, pleassse, I need you, I can take you, pleassse—”

“Shh, my love, I have you,” Aziraphale soothed, pulling his fingers out of the way and resting the head of his cock against Crowley’s hole. Crowley wrapped his legs around his hips, pulling him in as much as he could while his limbs still trembled from his earlier orgasm.

“Fffuck,” Crowley croaked as Aziraphale pressed forward until the fat, blunt head breached his slick muscles. Here, Aziraphale paused, breathing hard, and Crowley was forcibly reminded that his lover--lover, when had that happened?--had yet to cum. 

Crowley forced himself to relax, letting his head fall back against the pillows, and breathed deeply. The stretch of Aziraphale’s cock blurred into pleasure, and tightened his legs around Aziraphale’s hips as a signal to move. Aziraphale carefully leaned forward, pushing in, then pulled out, slowly building up a rhythm where he fed Crowley a little bit more each thrust. Crowley cried out with each thrust, open and sensitive and in love and so happy he could cry.

“Is this—” Aziraphale cut himself off with a moan, dropping his head onto Crowley’s shoulder and mouthing at his skin for a moment. He shuddered, fucking Crowley slowly. Crowley slid his palms up Aziraphale’s back, again feeling the soft warmth of his wings in the Other, and locked his ankles around his hips.

“Is this alright?” Aziraphale tried again, looking up at Crowley. Crowley could see the strain in his face as he tried to hold back, to move slowly for him. For Crowley.

“Angel,” Crowley crooned, pulling him in for a hot, wet kiss. “Fuck me. Like you want to. Please.”

Aziraphale shivered against him, winning the battle for only a moment longer before his restraint snapped and he picked up the pace, fucking into him harder and faster with every thrust. Crowley cried out, nails digging into Aziraphale’s back, and met him thrust for thrust. He was hard again, achingly so, his cock pressed between their stomachs and dragging wetly over their skin. Sparks flashed red and purple across his vision as Aziraphale hit his prostate with a particularly deep thrust, and he nearly shouted to the ceiling.

“Fuck, Aziraphale!” Crowley cried, rocking against him. 

“You feel so g-good, my love, simply divine,” Aziraphale babbled against his neck, warm breath washing over him and making him shiver. “I could fuck you like this for hours, d-days. Oh!”

Aziraphale bit his neck, rutting into him deeper, harder, hitting his prostate with more frequency until he was pounding into it with unerring, angelic accuracy. Crowley was in ecstasy, each thrust perfect, slick and hot and sending electricity along his skin. He could barely register anything but the holy pleasure Aziraphale was fucking into him.

“Cl-close,” Crowley gasped for the second—third?—time that night, trying to get a hand between them to grab his cock, but Aziraphale pinned his arms to the bed quicker than he could see. He moaned when he realized Aziraphale had denied his touch.

“N-no, my love, I want to see if you can--can cum from just this,” Aziraphale panted, leaning up to change the angle, and Crowley saw stars. “Just from me inside you.”

“Oh, Angel, fuck,” Crowley cried, he lashes wet as Aziraphale pounded him. “Fuck, yesss, I’m close, harder, love, please!”

Aziraphale answered with a growl, grabbing his hips and pulling him onto his cock with every thrust. He leaned up and bit Crowley’s neck again, not letting go, sucking the skin there, and a thrill went through him as he realized Aziraphale was marking him, bruising his neck so the world could see.

“‘Zira!” Crowley came, his cock spreading slick between them, and pleasure exploded behind his navel. He rode the waves, each one buffeting him with perfect bliss, clenching around Aziraphale.

That was all it took to send Aziraphale over the edge as well, slamming home and grunting against his neck as he filled him with warmth. Crowley moaned again, clenching involuntarily around him, holding him close.

Crowley kept his limbs locked around Aziraphale, refusing to let him pull away, as the aftershocks swept over them. They were both panting, sweaty, as if they were simply two humans who had fallen into bed together, rather than immortal occult and ethereal beings.

It took a long time for the residual shivers to die down, and Crowley spent the time tracing patterns over Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale, on the other hand, busied himself with sucking random marks into his neck or resting, happy.

“I love you,” Crowley said into Aziraphale’s hair, shocked at the raspy state of his own voice. Aziraphale shifted enough to see his face.

“I love you too,” he smiled, then frowned, looking worried. “Are you sure that was alright, dear? I got a little rough—”

“It was perfect,” Crowley cut him off quickly. “Absolutely perfect. Exactly what I wanted.”

“Excellent,” Aziraphale beamed at him.

“And it--it was good for you, too?” Crowley asked hesitantly, finally letting Aziraphale go. The angel pulled back, but only enough to slip gently out of him, snap his fingers to dissipate the mess, and then tuck into Crowley’s side for a good old-fashioned cuddle.

“Better than perfect,” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley felt relief wash over him, melting him into a puddle of afterglow. He sighed, pulling Aziraphale in close.

“Next time, perhaps you can fuck me?” Aziraphale suggested slyly, and Crowley made a choking noise.

“Angel!” he gasped, sputtering, his cheeks red. 

“Oh, hush now, Crowley,” Aziraphale scolded lightly. “Surely you’ve heard worse than ’fuck.’”

“Well, yeah, but not from you,” Crowley argued mildly, curling around Aziraphale as though he were a particularly sunny rock and he’d just decided on a nice long afternoon nap.

“Mm, do you prefer the term ‘making love?’” Aziraphale teased.

“Don’t care what you call it,” Crowley scoffed. “‘S long as I get to keep doing it with you.”

“Oh, love,” Aziraphale softened, kissing him gently, “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you too, Angel. Now, you gonna nap, or what?”

“I could give it a try, I suppose,” Aziraphale mused, running his fingers up and down Crowley’s back. “You sleep, dear. If I can’t fall asleep I can summon a book.”

“You sure?” Crowley yawned, snuggling in deeper. “Don’t want you to be bored.”

“Of course I'm sure, my dear,” Aziraphale assured him. “Rest now, my wily old serpent. I shall see you in the morn.”

“Alright, but only until the mornin,” Crowley mumbled. “Don’t wanna sleep long.”

“Why?” Aziraphale asked, startled. He’d never heard Crowley utter those words in his entire existence.

“Cause you’re here,” Crowley said simply. “Better than dreams.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft. A smile spread across his face, indulgent and loving, and he pressed a kiss to Crowley’s hair. “Of course, love. Sleep well.”

“G’night. Love you.”

“I love you, dearheart.”


End file.
